


One by one we fall from heaven down into the depths of past

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Whispered Death A Collection Of Sad Soulmark AU's [8]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, M/M, One-Sided Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 02:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14864937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: It begins with this; The one who makes it, sells it. The one who buys it, never uses it. The one that uses it never knows that he’s using it. And ends with two. What is it?





	One by one we fall from heaven down into the depths of past

When James Gordon was nine years old he lost his father. They were running late to something, the night air frigid on his skin. One moment they were driving, the next his dad was dead in his arms. This sequence of events is important. Not just because he ends up in the hospital fatherless but because he goes in Markless. It’s important because while he is in the hospital a nurse runs her fingers over his ribs causing the most unpleasant feeling to wrap around him. Imagine walking into cobwebs, getting slime dumped on you and then stepping into fresh dog poop. That’s what it felt like to an already aching Jim. And then she reads the words out loud like Mark etiquette wasn’t taught to her. Like she has the right to read them.

 

“ _ It wasn’t his fault _ . Pretty heavy Mark, kid.”

 

Jim tries to ignore the ache of wrongness. A stranger read his Mark instead of a family member. If there ever was a precursor for the rest of his life it would be that. Wrongness and broken rules and hurt. An omen if he believed in them But he doesn’t so he soldiers on. Tries to ignore the writing on his ribs. He grows up disenchanted but with a moral compass made of diamonds.

 

The moment he meets Barbra it’s like the heavens have opened up and the choir sings. A vast contradiction to how he meets Oswald. Thin boyish face lit up in glee as he beats someone with a bat. Jim ignores the flash of arousal that happens when blue eyes land on him. He’s secure enough in himself to admit that he’s bisexual. That male or female if they’re pretty he’s likely to play saviour. But he buries the shame of thinking impure thoughts, about a low level mobster no less, of someone other than Barbra. Deals with the guilt of wondering how that pale, freckled face would look flushed underneath him moaning, with anger.

 

For a moment, after Harvey has turned away and Oswald is begging, he can imagine a whole new life. A life where Oswald is on his knees, thin hands clutching at sheets and begging for a whole different reason. He’s always had an active imagination when it comes to sex.  _ Barbra. You’re dating Barbra. She’s your fiancee. _

 

“Don’t come back to Gotham.”

 

It’s an easy out watching as the water swallows up Oswald Cobblepot. For both of them. Send Oswald away and all the trouble will go with him. It’ll just be him and Barbra. Only it isn’t and things aren’t smooth sailing. Barbra’s ex comes sniffing and Oswald doesn’t stay away. He comes back right as a target is painted on Jim’s back. He comes back looking all prim and proper and fuck does he look good next to Barbra. Things go to shit because of course they do. It’s like trying to keep water in his hands as thing after thing after thing goes wrong. Barbra leaves him, he loses his job, get assigned a job at Arkham. Through it all Oswald is there. On the sidelines are right in front. He’s there.

 

And okay, okay, maybe Jim gets a little invested. Maybe he gets bitter and harsh the more invested he gets in Penguin. It’s hard not to get invested. It’s hard not to want to reach out and kiss him. To shove him into a wall and fuck his brains out. Jim doesn’t. He can’t. He’s not that far gone yet. At least that’s what he tries to tell himself with Lee.

 

Life gets strange and Gotham gets crazy. Monsters in insane asylums. Forces that control Wayne Enterprises. Oswald becoming Mayor. Oswald starts dating Ed Nygma who framed Jim for murder. It’s all strange. Lee is gone. She was a good woman and he isn’t a good man. Oswald is dating Ed and Jim has given up on love.

 

He finds Oswald at his door one night. Skin pale and fancy clothes soaked with rain. Those blue eyes dart around even as Jim leads him inside. They talk. About everything. From Oswald apologizing for not coming to Jim when Theo kidnapped his mother to the fact that him and Lee not working out. They talk about the pressures of being Mayor and crime lord. They talk about Ed. Jim  _ hates _ hearing about Ed. But… He loves watching Oswald’s face light up. He’s in love. He’s in love and out of chances.

 

“He killed her,” Oswald says offhandedly before he leaves. Beak-like nose that Jim strangely wants to kiss is pointed down.

 

“What?”

 

“His Soulmate. He killed her, it was an accident but… in a horrible way old friend it’s a relief. Soulmates…”

 

Jim watches as Oswald trails off, shoulders shrugging in a helpless way.

 

“Soulmates complicate things,” he offers, loving how Oswald finally looks up.

 

“That they do old friend. That they do.”

 

He doesn’t want Oswald to leave. Wants to pull him back into the apartment and kiss him. Wants to strip him down and have his way with the shorter male on every surface.

 

“Stay safe, Mister Mayor.”

 

The next time that Oswald shows up Harvey is there. A game is playing on the dingy tv he has and there is beer on the table. Oswald knocks, the sound nearly drowned out by the announcers. He stands there, body hunched slightly, mouth twisted.

 

“Holy shit, what happened to your face?”

 

For a brief moment, Jim imagines wringing Ed’s neck.

 

“Some fool thought my short stature meant I was easy prey.”

 

It’s haughty and said with a sniff. The truth but something is hiding underneath the words. Jim manages to convince Oswald to stay. Small body a pleasant warmth at his side as the game plays on.

 

“Ed is taking this,” Oswald gestures at the bruise, “as a personal failing.”

 

It’s admitted in hushed tones as Harvey snores loudly. The tv is muted but on casting light on them. The glow does things to Oswald’s skin.

 

“Why would he? He isn’t your bodyguard.”

He doesn’t voice that he’d feel the same. Oswald laughs.

 

“That’s what I told him. But he can’t stand that he missed something and it ended with me being hurt.”

 

Like before Oswald pauses before leaving.

 

“I’m worried… Ed has-” he cuts himself off, “Never mind. Senseless fears and no reason to place them on your shoulders.”

 

And then he’s gone into the night.

 

Jim has known, since that night when he was nine-years-old, that he would experience the worst kind of hurt. Because that is what soulmates are. The chance of a perfect life, but a guarantee of pain. He has known it but that doesn’t prepare him. It doesn’t stop the earth-shattering impact. Off the sharp drop to the ground to grab a shivering body.

 

“He didn't mean to. It wasn't his fault.”

 

The words on his ribs burn.

 

“It wasn't his fault.”

 

His throat is locked up.

 

“Jim. Jim. It wasn't his fault. He didn’t mean to. Don’t hurt him, Jim.”

 

Whispered pleading in between coughs and gasps. And pale skin turning blue while Harvey shouts and footsteps pound.

 

“It wasn't his fault.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jim demands knowing he won’t get an answer. Not when the only thing that Oswald seems to be able to say is “It wasn't his fault” but he’s hoping for a clue. Oswald arches up, a strangled scream leaving his lips and bad leg kicking out. And then Oswald goes still. He looks like he’s sleeping. Face slack and eyes closed. Jim bends down and places a kiss, the only kiss they will ever have, on parted lips that will never draw breath again. Then because he’s masochistic he pulls up Oswald’s pant leg. He’s not sure how he’s going to react if he finds the words “What do you mean?” imprinted on the delicate bones on Oswald’s ankle. How he will respond if the are on the calf. Be it relief or not the words aren’t there. He ignores the question mark that lingers tauntingly just below the where the pant leg bunches up and goes no further.

 

They don’t have to hunt for Ed. He finds them. Hands red and shaking. Jim expected to feel something staring down the man who killed Oswald. But all he feels is empty.

 

“This is your fault!” Ed snaps. Brown eyes flashing as he shows his teeth. Harvey has his hand on Jim’s shoulder. Holding him there. 

 

“You killed him like you killed Kristen,” Ed speaks before anyone else can. He’s pacing like a caged animal. Hair sticking out at odd angles. There is a bloody handprint on his cheek and garish red on his lips.

 

“No! Detective Gordon played no part in this. Don’t try to blame this on him.”

 

Jim watches Ed. Notices the jerky movements and blown eyes. Ed isn’t talking to any of the cops pointing their guns at him. He remembers the night Oswald came to him, the second time when he mentioned fears. Was this what he meant.

 

“Why don’t you drop the gun?” Harvey calls out. Ed jumps as if noticing them, glances down at the gun and then at Jim.

 

“I didn’t mean to.”

 

Ed laughs. A sound like broken glass falling to the ground.

 

“I’m left behind with the crumbs of the last cookie and hidden between words never spoken. Actions never taken spur me on and I feed on promises broken. What am I?”

 

“Remorse,” Jim calls out, shaking Harvey’s hand off his shoulder. He takes a step forward. The gun in Ed’s hand rises. There is more shouting behind him.

 

“Correct, Detective Gordon.”

 

The bang is loud and Jim feels nothing as Ed creates a fine red mist out of his own brain.


End file.
